


Soul Mates

by burlesquecomposer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coincidences, First Meetings, M/M, Milkshakes, Misunderstandings, Online Dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:30:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burlesquecomposer/pseuds/burlesquecomposer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia decides that Stiles has been single for far too long. Erica decides that Derek needs to relieve some tension. Coincidence happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Eva, a super silly craptastic dating site!AU.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you need to get laid.”

Stiles chokes on his straw and does his best to stop the flow of Dr. Pepper that comes out of his nose and burns away at his brain.

“I– Lyd– what–”

“Don’t deny it. It’s true.” Lydia plumps her lips together and out in that smug, beautiful way of hers. She’s painting her nails, which gives her a great excuse to check them out as if it adds flair. It really does.

Stiles, with an obviously matching amount of grace and sophistication, wipes soda sugar from his chin with the end of his sleeve. “I  _know_  it’s true,” he coughs, “I’m just not sure I wanted to hear that coming from  _you._ ”

“Well, Scott wasn’t going to say it.”

The accused rockets his gaze to Allison and pretends that he is too infatuated with her unparalleled beauty to have heard any piece of the conversation.

“Scott! Help me out here, buddy!”

“She’s kinda right, dude,” Scott mutters with a wince.

“I  _trusted_  you.”

Meanwhile, Lydia is reaching for her laptop and sitting crosslegged on the bed beside Stiles. Her WPM count is probably over 100. In seconds, Christian Mingle pops up on the screen with its cool blue font and yellow ichthus symbol.

“Christian Mingle? Really, Lydia?”

Scott and Allison are laughing behind their hands.

“I am not going to let one of those one-night-stand websites show up in my browser history,” she says.

“Lydia, I’m not even Christian. Or I mean, I was baptized, but Christian Mingle’s for  _serious_  Christians. And you know those things you can do where you ‘smile’ or ‘like’ someone’s page? Yeah, I heard apparently on Christian Mingle you can’t ‘smile’ at someone of the same sex. So.”

Stiles freezes when he realizes the implications he’s just made: that 1) Stiles has looked into dating websites before, and 2) Stiles is into men. And women, because Lydia. And he can feel the stares, even from Jackson who is across the room leaning back in one of Lydia’s comfy chairs and only just now has decided to tune in.

Allison is the first one to cough and Stiles could kiss her for breaking the silence.

Lydia makes a resigned face. “Well… I guess it broadens our horizons.” She types furiously again. “Fine, Soul M8 will have to do.”

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me?” Scott asks somewhat gently.

“I have asked you many times if you found me attractive to gay guys. I  _thought_  it was implied.” Stiles attempts to take the laptop from Lydia but she knocks his hands away and holds it out of his reach.

“First question, what is your name… What  _is_  your first name?”

“Gimme,” Stiles says with his mouth full of hamburger.

“All right, but hand it back when you’re done.”

Stiles types in his real name. Lydia reads it over and immediately backspaces.

“Are there even any vowels in that? I can’t think of anyone, guy or girl, who would want to date someone who doesn’t have vowels in their name.”

“Just ‘Stiles’ is fine.”

“Stiles…” she murmurs distractedly as she types the unfamiliar string of letters with the smallest amount of fumbling. “And you are a male,” she clicks, “seeking a… I can only select one.”

“Just pick one, I’ll change it later or something.”

Lydia shrugs and clicks again. Then she punches in the zip code and location.

“Email.”

* * *

“Email…” Erica muses. When she hits the ‘d’ key, his laptop autocompletes with his email, a loose abbreviation of his name. And of course. If he gets any hits she’ll want him to know. The guy really needs to loosen up and get over his shit — though he’d probably tear out both their throats if he knew they had broken into his computer. “Password, what should his password be…?”

“How about… ‘ihatekate123’?” Isaac asks over her shoulder.

Erica’s lips curl into a smirk. “Good enough for me.”

She assumes this is only for fun, so what’s the harm? She imagines if Derek were into guys too – and maybe he is – Derek would dig guys his size, all shoulders and muscle and strong jaws with scruff. But softer. Hopefully Derek would find someone softer. There’s not much rougher.

There are a series of questions that follow. The two of them want to be as accurate as possible, so there’s no fooling around until it gets down to the ‘interests’ section, which they feel entitles them to a bit of freedom. ‘Long walks on the beach,’ of course, is included. Then they upload the best picture of Derek they can find, which happens to be the one they found of scruff-less Derek in the Beacon Hills High School yearbook.

After entering the rest of the information, Erica clicks ‘Find my soul m8.’

It begins to load.

* * *

“Huh,” Lydia says after it loads.

“What? What’s it say?” Stiles cranes to peek over her shoulder at the list of a few names given underneath snapshots of profile pictures. “Am I soulmate-less? Is there no hope?”

Most of the pictures are either of older men or younger ones in backwards baseball caps. The strawberry blonde puffs out her lips and points a shiny manicured nail at one of the pictures.

Stiles squints at the screen and makes a face.

“He looks…  _cute._ ”

“He looks  _sixteen_ , is what he fucking looks.”

“Let me see,” Scott says, grabbing the screen and turning it.

“Yeah,” Allison says, “he’s cute.”

“He does look sixteen,” Scott says, returning the laptop.

“ _Thank_  you, Scott. I am not going to jail for something like this, please Lydia.”

“Stiles, you’re eighteen. It’s no big deal, okay?” She clicks on his picture which leads to ‘Derek’s’ profile. “And look, he’s pretty close. It’s like it was meant to be.”

“‘Long walks on the beach,’” Stiles reads from his list of interests. “Is that really the only reason we got matched up?”

“Finding fellow DC fans in this town is hard enough, man,” Scott chirps.

Stiles looks over at Lydia and finally notices that familiar smile. The kind that has her eyes gleaming. “At least meet up with him,” she says and clicks the ‘wink’ button.

“Lydia no-!”

But it’s too late.

Stiles Stilinski has winked at Derek Hale over the internet.

* * *

“He’s cute.”

Isaac cocks his head to the side. “I guess. Could use some more… hair.”

A notification pops up on the screen and Erica nearly squeals. “Look, he just got winked at! By the cute guy!”

Isaac’s brows rise. “That’s a timely coincidence.”

* * *

Derek’s still in his car when his phone buzzes. He contemplates leaving it alone – it’s probably Isaac asking if he can have the rest of the toaster waffles – when he notices that the notification isn’t a text, it’s an email. Pausing at a stop sign, as there’s no one behind him, he opens it.

[Soul M8: Someone’s just winked at you!]

“…What?”

* * *

[Soul M8: Derek Hale just winked back at you!]

“Oh god,” Stiles moans.

* * *

“Erica, you said this wouldn’t go too far!”

“Relax, we can’t back out now. It’s just getting good.”

Erica is about to type out a message for this ‘Stiles’ when they both pick up on the sound of crunching gravel beneath rubber tires.

“Shit shit shit!”

“Log out!”

“I don’t know how!”

“Well  _do_ somethi-”

“ _WHICH ONE OF YOU WAS IT?_ ”

* * *

Erica and Isaac manage to calm Derek down enough to explain. They even show him Stiles’s picture. He’s wearing a Beacon Hills lacrosse jersey and there’s an endearing bruise on his cheek.

“He asked for a date, you know,” Erica comments.

(Lydia typed out a flirtatious message while Scott physically restrained Stiles from interfering. Allison made suggestions.)

Derek’s leather jacket crinkles over his deflating form. “Say no. Tell him what you did.  _Apologize._ ”

“Come on! He’s totally adorable!” Erika shakes the laptop in his face. “And he lives nearby. I’ll pay for your gas.”

Derek grabs his laptop and yanks it back, shutting it quickly. “I don’t need you two butting into my life, got it?”

“What’s meeting him gonna do?” Erica demands from him, stepping forward challengingly. “So you get lunch, hang out, talk a bit. What’s the worst that could happen? You make a friend?”

Derek’s glare suggests she didn’t make herself look much better. But she can tell it’s ruffled a few feathers.

“Just stay out of my business.”

* * *

“He agreed to meet up,” Lydia says with a sweetly glossed smile. “You can thank me now or thank me later, take your pick.”

“I could never hate you Lydia, but oh…” Stiles takes an angry bite out of his burger. The bottom bun is disintegrating. “You’ll pay. Oh yeah. Uh huh.  _Mucho dinero_.”

Jackson laughs to himself from the corner.

They settle on meeting up in a diner between their separate locations, far enough from the police station so that his dad won’t see him committing what really should be a crime. Despite the Jeep needing gas along the way, Stiles gets there first and grabs a booth. He’s anxious, not because he’s nervous about this whole ‘date’ thing, or this whole ‘soul m8’ thing, but because he doesn’t know how he’s going to tell the poor kid that it was all just a dumb joke his friends decided to play. And it got out of hand.

Stiles rehearses this speech over and over in his head until he perfects it. He even writes down a bullet point summary on his napkin after ordering a milkshake. The milkshake comes at the same time a tall man in a leather jacket, with sleeves that fall over his hands, makes the bell jingle and clang over the door.

Of course he can’t help but notice how damn attractive he looks. God, the guy looks like he should be modeling underwear – like a Hollister model in desperate need of a close shave.

Then he turns. “Stiles?” he asks, quietly enough so that no one will hear him if he’s wrong but loud enough for any Stiles to pick him up.

The boy in question seems to have lost control of his jaw muscles and part of the milkshake in his mouth spills all over his napkin notes. “Old,” he blurts.

The guy looks like he doesn’t know whether to burst into laughter or find the nearest fork and use it in violent ways. “What did you just call me?”

“I mean, old…er. Than your picture.”

He grimaces. But he makes it look hot. Fuck.

“Sorry. That’s a… high school picture.” His eyes roll – they’re fucking  _hazel_ or  _green_  or some shit. “Look, my roommates set up the account, I had no part in it, this is really just a big mistake.”

“No, dude.” Stiles swallows a mouthful of milkshake. “That’s pretty much what happened to me, too. I was gonna say the same thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh thank god.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says again, sipping away. “Dodged a bullet there.”

“I mean, no offense.”

“None taken, man. Not much of a market for all of this,” he says with a gesture to his body. All lean muscle with weird proportions and flailing clumsiness. Derek, on the other hand. Derek’s got the NASDAQ market of hot men who can easily pass for male models.

Derek sighs with evident relief. “Ok. Load off my shoulders, then. I didn’t want to give you false hopes or anything.”

“Nope. No false hopes.”

The older man’s boots – he looks maybe 25, the boots look 30 – scuff against the tiled floor. “Sorry for wasting your time, then. I guess I’ll go.”

“Hey, no, what are you doing? Do you know how many guy code rules you’re breaking, leaving me hangin’ alone with a milkshake like I just got stood up? C’mon, stay a while. This place has amazing curly fries.”

With a bit of hesitation and a few fidgets, Derek reluctantly slips into the booth, across from Stiles. He can’t help but notice that up close, something the camera didn’t pick up in the profile photo, is the sprinkling of moles that litter the boy’s face. Even after he counts them once he still finds more and more. And at first he thought he looked a bit funny, but now…

Somehow he’s getting used to it.

“What kind of milkshake do you want?”

“I don’t do milkshakes.”

Stiles stares at him before bursting into peals of laughter. He pauses long enough to imitate Derek’s dark brooding face.

“‘I don’t  _do_  milkshakes,’” he mimics in a haughty tone.

“I can leave,” Derek reminds him.

“Dude,” Stiles says. A goofy grin has plastered itself on his face. “You’re  _doing_  the milkshake. And you’re getting  _chocolate_. And you’re gonna  _like_  it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got a few comments asking for more, and a little nudge of inklings wouldn't go away. Enjoy a tiny epilogue!

Derek and Stiles quickly find a way to make things work.

"Jesus, Derek, within a few more years please."

"I'm taking it slow," Derek retorts.

"I'd rather not be picking out my first white hair by the time we're done," Stiles complains. Derek has only ever been with women — Stiles isn't used to the near-hour he spends on foreplay.

"Too late, already found one."

"You suck at dirty talk." A hair is pulled from his head. "Ow! Ass."

"Pot and kettle."

"Derek, I'm hungry…" he whines. His stomach echoes the notion, growling below Derek's stubble just as he's kissed it. Stiles howls with laughter and Derek can't help the tiny smile curling his mouth.

"Wanna get Boyd to bring us lunch?"

"Hell fuckin' yes, now we're talking."

Stiles flips his body over so he can pluck Derek's phone from the nightstand. Derek is behind him, eyes raking him until Stiles can feel the burn of his gaze connecting his moles like stars in a constellation. He begins to kiss each one as Stiles finds Boyd's contact, calls, and lists off a few food items.

"Dude, I've got a ton of those, it's gonna take forever."

[Could you please hang up before you get back to your business…]

"Sure you don't wanna listen?"

Derek stifles a groan as he places his cock between Stiles' cheeks and moves, his length velveted nicely against the teenager's bare skin.

[Yeah, I'm sure. Be done in fifteen.]

"Twenty." Stiles hangs up. "We've got twenty, now get in me already."

"Cheeky."

"You love me."

"Sure," Derek breathes, pulling Stiles' cheeks apart and pushing into him quickly to shut him up. It works, as it always did, until Stiles starts feeling good and gets louder. Stiles lifts his ass so Derek can grip it hard and pound into him until he can't feel his head anymore. His upper body planted firmly into the mattress as Derek fucks him into it, eyes rolling back behind closed lids as he feels a thick wet tongue catching a bead of sweat from his spine. Derek's large hand cups the back of Stiles' head sweetly, not pushing, just there, wonderfully present, fingers pushing into the roots of his hair.

Derek shoots onto the small of his back and licks it off while Stiles returns to the physical world. He rolls in the sheets for a while until Derek perks up. He knows the sound of Boyd's brakes. Stiles grabs his boxers and one of Derek's shirts and gets up to answer the door.

"Food's here! And Boyd."

Boyd raises a few fingers from the side of his drink, waving to them both while he hands Stiles the bag of burgers and curly fries and the two extra large cups. Stiles dumps the food onto Derek's bed and shoves a cup into Derek's face.

"Vanilla?" Derek asks.

"Who do you think I am, Mr. McBoring? We're having Oreo today, try it."

Derek makes a face.

"It's like chocolate, but fifty.. hundred times better." Stiles jumps into bed and piles his food into the bowl of his crossed legs. Soon to join it is his credit card, flying into his lap from a distance.

"Hey, this is mine."

"Yeah?" Boyd quirks a brow from the doorway, sipping his own milkshake.

"Dude, that's like, illegal."

"That thing you did to my car was probably illegal," Boyd huffs. "You should be glad I didn't buy more than I did."

Stiles blinks, the ends of curly fries hanging out of his mouth. "What else did you get?"

"Lunch for the pack was on Stiles today."

"Aw, come on, man!" Boyd flashes a bright grin before disappearing out the door. His grumbling is more or less subdued by the scratch of five o'clock on his shoulder.

"What are we watching today?" Derek asked.

"Glad you asked." Stiles grins and pushes forward nearly onto his stomach to grab the group of DVDs from the corner of the bed. He holds one up to his face, unfolding five more behind it like a poker hand.

"We're starting with Star Wars. Duh."

"Do we have enough time to watch all those?"

"No making excuses. You promised, in a few months' time we'd have more in common than just 'long walks on the beach.'"

Derek sips at his milkshake, a pleased noise escaping his throat.

"Fine. As long as you don't quote the movie all the way through."

Stiles puts the movie in and settles into Derek's lap.

"Got it... Not _all_ the way through."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! One day I hope to have a Stiles to sit me down and force me to watch the Star Wars movies since I've only seen one uh don't hurt me


End file.
